Everything I Can Never Have (Age & Innocence Book 2)

by M Johnson

  No matter how much the world thinks I’m wrong, no matter how much Maria thinks I should be acting differently, I refuse to let anyone make this feel dirty. For the first fucking time in a long time, I know what I want. I know how I feel. I like Sofie. I like her a lot. Her no-bullshit attitude and ability to see right through me, her starlight eyes, the way she puts all kinds of terrible thoughts in my head and encourages me to act on them…

  She makes me feel like I own the world, like I used to feel, back before my marriage and my sorry attempt at a family. The more time I spend with her, the more it feels like there’s something that might actually be there. It’s not just about sex or venting my anger over Maria and Aaron, or anything else other than two people who have feelings for each other, and fuck anyone who thinks that’s what this is.

  “You should leave,” I say.

  “Are you kicking me out?” She gapes at me.

  “Forgetting the fact that I have no idea why you’re here in the first place, I’m merely making a suggestion,” I reply, my tone cold. “If you take it to heart, I won’t have to kick you out.”

  “This isn’t your house—”

  “No, because you won’t leave my house,” I remind her with a low growl.

  She looks like she’s about to say something else, a moment of anger crossing her features, but she doesn’t open her mouth. A wise move because I’m on the verge of losing my shit, and when I do, it won’t be pretty. So far, I like to think I’ve been very civil towards her, especially after what she did to me. And if she doesn’t push me too far, I can keep it that way.

  But I need her to leave.

  Right now.

  “Fine,” she mutters.

  She turns around and stalks out. I listen until I hear the front door slam shut, and then I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I wait a few minutes before I go upstairs. Sofie opens the door before I even get a chance to knock. She walks back over to her bed and sits down. I sit next to her with a sigh. Her brow creases, and she bites her lower lip, still swollen from our kisses.

  “Do you think Maria will tell him?”

  “I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” I promise.

  The relief on Sofie’s face is obvious, as she smiles and nods. She trusts me so much, and she’s so warm and sweet and beautiful. I pull her into another kiss, which makes her shiver and cling to me tighter. She slides her hands up and into my hair.

  “I left something at the bar. Will you be okay?”

  She nods and watches me as I stand up and walk over to her door.

  “When will you be back?” she asks.

  I shrug. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

  She nods and manages a smile. “Okay.”

  There’s nothing at the bar that couldn’t wait until tomorrow, but I’m nervous I’ll let something slip to Sofie about Aaron and Maria. Learning about her father and Maria isn’t something I want her to find out about a few days before she takes the exams that will decide her future.

  Right now, all I want to do is work off some frustration.

  It’s hard to distract myself when my phone keeps buzzing. I know it’s Sofie texting me, probably asking where I am and what I’m doing. She’ll want to talk, but I’m in no mood to talk, so I ignore her.

  After a while, I give up trying to distract myself with bookkeeping and organising my stock. Instead, I sit on the stage with a heavy sigh. I feel so fucking defeated. My gaze lingers to the side where my guitar sits, abandoned. My fingers curl, some instinct driving me to go over and pick it up, but even now, I don’t want to play it. The thought makes me nauseous. It makes my skin crawl and my hands shake, in a way they never did when touching the familiar strings and hugging the body to my chest in the past. It makes my heart ache with such a crushing pain, because it still feels so raw, even though it’s been years since I lost him.

  Music was the one thing I shared with Dylan. It was the one good part of my soul that I passed on to my son. Dylan was like a mirror for me, sometimes reflecting the best parts of myself that I could possess and pass on. Who knows, maybe I was trying to relive my life through my son, and then when he died, that part of me died with it.

  Touching the guitar now is like being a wraith, a zombie. My fingers don’t belong to me, and neither does the need to play it. It’s like an echo of a dream, something just permanently out of my reach. Is that really what I was mourning when he died? Not just the loss of my child, but the last connection to the man I was?

  I put the guitar down without playing it, sucking a breath in through my teeth and trying not to vomit. I look away from it—out of sight, out of mind—and eye the floor of the stage. It’s scuffed and in dire need of a fresh coat of paint, at the very least, before the first live show scheduled in a few weeks. There’s a lot I need to do to get this place ready for that show.

  A coat of paint on the stage feels like a good place to start.

  There’s nothing more therapeutic than working with my hands, getting shit done.

  Manual labour has always been a good outlet. So much so that I don’t notice the time ticking by as I work and work and work. It’s so much easier to pour my energy into something that I have to show for afterward, than to sit around brooding over things I have no control over.

  I know what I feel for Sofie, and I know where I want things to go. There’s no doubt there anymore, but sometimes, I just need a break from all of it. I need to be alone and work through my thoughts and my feelings. Working here, alone, doing shit I needed to do anyway is giving me the outlet I need. I like being awake alone at night when the rest of the world is asleep. Somehow, it feels like the problems in my life are put on hold, too.

  The painting is done. I put some shit together, hammers and nails, the whole shebang, and now I’m sanding down the fucking stage—anything to take my mind off things. I stopped looking at my phone a while ago and finally I check it again. It’s three in the afternoon. The bar will be opening again in a couple of hours. I guess time flies when you’re trying to take your mind off the betrayal of your best friend and your wife.

  Straightening up, I step down from the stage, pushing both hands against my stiff lower back. Fuck. Pain sears through me and I wince. Sometimes I forget how old I am. I look around with a fresh pair of eyes. The place looks completely different to when I bought it. I shouldn’t be surprised, after how many hours I’ve put in. It feels good to work on something that’s my own, something I can show for all the energy I put into it.

  The front door clicks, and my head snaps up. I frown because Sofie stands there, clutching her hands tightly together in front of her, an expression on her face I can’t read. She’s like a vision—an angry, concerned one, but still a vision, no less.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes sliding to the stage where the sanding paper lies in used-up curls.

  “Sanding,” I say, stating the obvious.

  My voice is gruffer than I intend, but it matches my foul mood.

  She scowls at me. “Stop being a dick and talk to me.”

  I shake my head and turn away from her. I’m still angry and even though it’s not at her, I can’t talk right now. We’ll just fight, and I’ll do what I do best and push her away, and then it will be even harder to convince her I’m okay.

  “Just leave me alone, Sofe,” I bite through clenched teeth, not looking at her.

  “Zave—”

  “Please,” I cut in, spinning around to face her. “Just go, get out of here. Let me get this done.” I take a deep breath and address her in a calmer, more controlled voice. “We’ll talk later, okay? Just let me do this first.”

  She regards me for a moment, calculating. She has far too much patience—anyone else would have told me to fuck off. I don’t know where she finds it to be so calm.

  “Fine,” she says after time seems to stretch out forever.

  She turns around and leaves, just like I asked her to. When she’s gone, I walk to the bar and pour myself a drink. I d
on’t bother to slip it slowly—there’s no reason to savour the taste when you’re drinking to forget. I throw it back, feeling it burn down my throat. I push the empty glass onto the bar and turn back to the stage to get back to work, trying not to feel the part of me that longs for Sofie, the part that wants to call her back.

  I just want to be alone.

  Chapter 16

  Xavier

  At five, Monday morning, I’m drunk as fuck and stumbling home.

  Home.

  Hah. This is Aaron’s house—my lying, asshole of a best friend—not mine. I don’t have a house because he decided to screw my wife right under my nose. I shrug off my coat and enter the main room, seeing Sofie asleep on the couch. She clearly tried to wait up for me. Her hair is splayed out like a halo around her head, lashes fluttering softly, lips parted as she sleeps. Her chest rises and falls with gentle breaths, her feet propped up on the leg of the couch, one arm slung across her chest as though reaching for me. It makes my heart ache to watch her because she looks so young and innocent.

  I watch her sleep for a little longer, feeling like a creep for doing so, but not so much that it stops me, then finally my feet get into motion and take myself up to Aaron’s office.

  I’m still so pissed at him, and the alcohol is fuelling my need to confront my friend. So many times, I’ve wanted to call him, but I need more evidence first. I’m not even sure why I need to talk to him. Maria admitted it, but that’s not enough for me. I want more. I need to know why our friendship is worth so little to him when I’d do fucking anything for him.

  Quietly, I close the door behind me and go over to his desk. I sit down, pressing my lips together as I toy with the handle of his desk drawers. I slide open the first one, not sure what I’m expecting to find—handwritten love notes from my wife?

  No, nothing that obvious.

  It’s all just random forms, paperwork, his passport—

  Hold on.

  If he’s supposed to be in the States, how the fuck did he get there without his passport? I pick it up and flick through it. It’s definitely his current one. My frown deepens, my drunk brain trying to connect the dots and still coming up short.

  What the fuck is going on?

  I hear the door open, and I tense.

  “Zave?”

  Sofie’s voice is hoarse and rough with sleep. I hurriedly shove Aaron’s passport in my pocket, and turn around to see her rubbing hazily at one of her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, frowning at me.

  “Your dad asked me to email him something,” I reply.

  I don’t like lying, especially to her, but it comes so easily, like a defence mechanism, and then it’s too late to take it back.

  “I didn’t mean in Dad’s office,” she replies quietly. She fixes me with a sad, helpless look, and gazes at the clock hanging on the wall. “It’s five in the morning and you’re just getting home.” She gestures to me. “You’ve clearly been drinking. I just…” She sighs shortly, folding her arms across her chest, and shakes her head. “I just feel like every time we make progress, you take ten steps back. If you’re not ready to move on, I get it, but I can’t put myself through this if you’re not in it one hundred per cent.”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out before she keeps talking.

  “My dad is going to flip when he finds out about us, but I happen to think you’re worth it.” She studies me for a second, a shy smile just barely tilting the corners of her mouth up. “Am I alone in this?”

  God, I hate that she thinks I’m having second thoughts.

  I want to tell her that she’s all I care about, that the betrayal between my friend and wife is eating me alive, but it sticks in my throat like poison. I can’t tell her about Maria and her dad. Not yet. It would kill her.

  “No,” I whisper and wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a kiss.

  She sighs against me, her hands resting on my biceps and squeezing. She melts and fits to me so perfectly. God, how could she possibly think I don’t want this? Our kiss ends, and I sigh, resting our foreheads together. I cup her face with one hand, eyes low. “I’m sorry I make things so complicated. I’ve got a boatload of baggage—”

  “I don’t care,” she says earnestly.

  “I don’t want to mess this up,” I reply, shaking my head again. “And you’re right, your dad is going to flip, which is all the more reason to take this slow.”

  “Zave,” she whispers.

  Fuck, I love how she says my name…

  I love how close she clings to me, every part of her inside and out. I tug her away from the door and turn her, putting her on the desk right next to her father’s computer. Her legs spread easily, knees clinging to my legs as her heels dig into my calves.

  My kiss grows deeper, licking into her mouth as the desire that I wasn’t allowed to answer before rises in me again, so fast and powerful it’s like a full body head rush. I growl against her mouth, pushing her thighs farther apart and pushing her long nightgown up to pool around her hips, baring her for me. She’s such a good girl for me, keeping herself bare and open for when I need her.

  She gasps quietly, wrapping her arms around my shoulders as I kiss her, my drunken hands fumbling at the belt, zipper, and button of my jeans all at once. She claws at my shoulders, her breathing growing heavy, her head tilted back as I kiss down her jaw to her soft, perfect throat. The desire to bite down on her warm skin and lay marks for everyone to see is almost overwhelming, but I force myself not to. She still has to go to school after all, and neither of us are ready to go public yet.

  But, God, when we are ready… this poor girl isn’t going to be able to show a single inch of skin without showing the world my kisses, my hands, my marks. The desire to mark her up and lay my claim floods my mouth with saliva, making me swallow and pant roughly against her throat. I pull my cock out, hard, dripping and ready for her.

  “You ready, baby girl?” I hiss in her ear.

  She moans as I slide a hand down and grip her ass, sliding her to the edge of the desk. She lets out the sweetest little mewl, digging her nails into the edge of the desk to brace herself as I shove my way closer and lift her thighs up, pushing the head of my cock to her slick opening and sliding inside her.

  “Zave,” she gasps, throwing her head back.

  My upper lip twitches back, jaw clenching as I’m wrapped in the gripping, velvet heat of her. Christ, it feels good. She always feels so fucking good, I have no idea how she does it.

  I hook one of her legs over my arm, her knee resting on my inner elbow while I hold her ass tight with my other hand and kiss her, making her take my weight.

  The desk creaks alarmingly beneath our weight, the desk lamp and the pens scattered and rolling around as I thrust all the way inside her and rest, for just a moment, simply relishing how good she feels. My alcohol-soaked brain is swimming with pleasure, with the promise of release, with the knowledge that I can be as rough and selfish with her as I want, and she’ll take it with grace. She’ll get off on it, and she’ll beg me for more.

  Fuck.

  Sofie bites her lower lip, meeting my eyes when I lift my head from her neck. She cups the back of my neck and pulls me in for another kiss, fingers gentle and warm on my sweaty skin. “You feel so good,” she whispers.

  I snort a laugh, knowing I haven’t done shit for her yet, but still I’m flattered, nonetheless. I kiss her again, biting her lower lip because I love how she shivers and clenches up for me. I tighten my grip on her ass with both hands and pull back, fucking her forward again. She gasps, dragging her hands down my back and holding on to my belt tightly, urging me to fuck her harder and faster. Soon, I can’t think of anything but how good it feels, how tight and wet she is, the harsh cries I can wring from her mouth as I fuck her on her father’s desk.

  “Fuck,” she whispers urgently, biting her lower lip and reaching down to rub her clit.

  The way she tightens around me whenever she touches herself
threatens to send me over the edge far too soon.

  “Come for me, baby,” I rumble.

  “Fuck, Zave, please, oh my God…”

  She tosses her head back, panting roughly. She wraps her legs around me and digs her nails into my back, her pussy clenching tightly around me. She’s burning hot and sweating against me, hair damp and wispy against her neck.

  “Come nice and hard, like a good girl.”

  She lets out a helpless little noise and nods, biting her lower lip. I slide my hands to her hips, holding her still, and push as deep inside of her as I can, grinding roughly against her as she starts to orgasm, her lashes fluttering as her body trembles. She goes limp against me.

  “Good girl,” I soothe, kissing over her hammering pulse and enjoying the clenching of her inner walls around my cock.

  “Come inside me,” she whispers. “Please.”

  My eyes close, my head drops to her shoulder as I finally allow myself to let go, groaning as I flood her burning hot body, filling her up. I roll my hips against her, moaning softly at how good she feels. Finally, I have to pull out. I sway on the spot, a little unsteady on my feet with the alcohol and the amazing release. Sofie sighs quietly, smiling, and kisses me gently before getting to her feet.

  “I have to go,” she says. “I have an exam.”

  I grin and pull her against me for another kiss.

  “Where are exams going to get you in life?” I tease.

  She laughs, peppering my lips with sweet kisses. “I’ll be home in a few hours. Will you… be here?”

  I nod. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  After Sofie leaves, I go back upstairs, even more determined to find out what Aaron is hiding. I’m still not sure what I’m looking for, but the question of Aaron’s passport still sits heavy in my skull. I search around more, and in the bottom drawer of his desk, I find a stack of papers in a thick Manila folder. I frown and take the folder out, opening it to see the contents. My eyes widen when I see a purchase agreement and mortgage contract for a townhouse in Essendon, on the other side of the city. What the actual fuck?